


you and me, right away baby

by arzoensis



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 11:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arzoensis/pseuds/arzoensis
Summary: It isn’t the first time Chris has visited Sweden, but his trip doesn’t have as much of a timetable this time. Mika figures they can get up to something.“We’lldefinitelyget up to something,” Chris says. The deadpan tone is immediately undercut by the way that he’s rushing back to the apartment. In the wrong direction, of course, but you know what? Mika gets it.





	you and me, right away baby

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Carly Rae Jepsen's "Automatically In Love." No, I won't stop using lyrics from the album as fic titles.
> 
> Viciously unbetaed, but once in a while you just gotta let the text file go. Hope you like it anyway.

Mika didn’t get invited to play at Worlds, which is genuinely a relief. Don’t get him wrong—he loves playing hockey. He just doesn’t love the idea of doing it when he’s got other plans. Instead, he spends the first couple of weeks doing what he normally does when he’s back home: watching Djurgården games, making a little music, and spoiling his niece absolutely rotten.

Chris is playing in Slovakia, doing his damn best with what he’s got. It just so happens that Mika’s schedule opens up while Team USA is playing. He spends a lot of time yelling at his TV screen while Chris is skating across it, and then immediately being a little embarrassed about doing that. It’s not as if Chris can hear him. He should really take notes so at least Chris can hear about it later.

Team USA falls flat in the quarterfinals, but at least that means Chris is off duty before the tournament was supposed to end. Mika waits an entire six hours after the game before he starts the video call—but Chris also picks up immediately, so who’s really the clingy one, if you think about it.

“Hey, so,” Mika says once Chris has finally moved his phone enough that he’s no longer staring directly at a forehead, “did you have plans when Worlds is over?”

“I dunno,” Chris says, shrugging. Mika takes a moment to appreciate the way his t-shirt clings to his shoulders. Sue him. “I was probably just gonna fly back and hang around, I guess.”

“You should come to Sweden, if you’re not busy,” Mika says, so very casually. “Your last visit was kind of short.”

“It’s a long flight,” Chris says, frowning.

There’s a long pause. “You know Slovakia is closer to Sweden than the U.S. is, right?”

“Oh,” Chris says. “No, yeah. I forgot about that.”

“You should come to Sweden,” Mika repeats.

“Yeah, I should go to Sweden,” Chris agrees. Mika watches while Chris takes him on a blurry journey through his hotel room, digging his laptop out of his bag and propping his phone up against it. “So should I fly into Stockholm?”

 

 

Mika picks Chris up from the airport, the poor guy looking mildly bewildered while he stands at the curb with his designer luggage. He honks twice, and the way Chris lights up when they make eye contact probably shouldn’t make Mika as happy it does.

“What do you feel like eating?” Mika asks.

Chris looks genuinely thoughtful for a second. “Do Swedes have pancakes?”

They drop Chris’ luggage off at Mika’s apartment first before heading out on foot. There’s a place a couple blocks away that makes pretty standard breakfast fare, but it _does_ have pancakes and good coffee, which is about all that Mika can ask for.

“By the way,” Chris says, his mouth full of the ungodly large bite he just took, “I forgot to exchange my euros at the airport.”

“Weren’t you in two airports 'cause of the layover?”

Chris swallows. “Yes, but I was late to the first one and hunting down food in the second one, so.”

Mika takes a sip of his coffee. “So you don’t have any money.”

“I mean,” Chris says, drawing out the vowels. “I have my cards. But you wouldn’t make me pay currency exchange fees, would you?”

Mika sighs. Chris is doing his best approximation of puppy dog eyes, which is sadly working. “I let you stay at my place _and_ you can’t pay for yourself? You owe me big time.”

Chris steals some of Mika’s hashbrowns. “You know. Somehow, I think I can pay you back.”

 

 

They get approximately three steps into the apartment before Chris is trying to stick his hand down the front of Mika’s pants. Kudos to them for making it a solid two and a half hours being in each other’s presence before trying to tear each other’s clothes off, though. Definitely a record.

“Can I put my keys down, at least?” Mika asks.

“You can try,” Chris supplies, helpfully.

At the very least, there’s no actual clothes tearing. Chris does chuck his hoodie onto the couch—there really is no reasonable explanation why he does that, he just likes being uncivilized, Mika guesses—but they make it to the bedroom without issue.

“We should have sex in other parts of your apartment,” Chris suggests.

“I don’t trust you to disinfect my home before you leave,” Mika replies, and when Chris snorts his breath is right against his neck, the vibrations rumbling pleasantly along his back.

“Counter sex is fun,” Chris says. Mika _knows_ it’s fun. He just feels bad about messing up the kitchen, because: 1. other people use it, and 2. he doesn’t want to have an errant thought and get horny while making salad. That part he can deal without.

“My perfectly good bed is fun,” Mika says, motioning to the rumpled mass of sheets. “See? I even have a boxspring.”

“I missed you a lot,” Chris says, and the fond way he says it kinda stops Mika in his tracks.

He wants to say all kinds of things that are, technically, true. Like how they saw each other less than a month ago, or they practically lived together during the season, or they were linemates. But, if he can be really honest—

“I missed you too,” Mika murmurs, because it seems a little embarrassing to say it all the way out loud. Chris is better about those kinds of things. He yelled _I love you_ at karaoke once, pointing the hand that had a Coors in it directly at Mika, and it’s only by god’s saving grace that everyone was too plastered to pay attention to what Chris was doing.

(Mika felt stone-cold sober in that moment. He wasn’t, but that’s beside the point. Looking at Chris, who’s crooning his best interpretation of Madonna’s Borderline—not great, but certainly spirited—he’s pretty sure he’s in love too.)

“Aw, babe,” Chris coos.

Mika mutters under his breath, sits on the edge of the bed and yanks Chris closer by the waistband of his sweats.

“You can tell me how much you like me later,” Mika says, even while he’s angling his head up for a kiss. Chris, for his part, indulges him with one.

“You got it, babe,” Chris says cheerfully.

He’s humming while he kneels and settles between Mika’s legs before pulling his jeans and boxers out of the way with a flourish. Mika threads his hand through Chris’ hair, pulls on it gently. Chris makes a pleased sound.

“Can you stop shaving your head?” Mika asks. “Your hair is _way_ better when its longer.”

“It’s not my fault someone keeps trying to yank my scalp off,” Chris says, biting a mark just shy of being painful on the crease of Mika’s hip.

“Isn’t that a compliment, if you really think about it,” Mika says, and he hisses when Chris skips his dick entirely to bite and kiss along his other thigh. “ _Chris_.”

“Did you need something?” Chris asks, the image of innocence.

“Don’t tease,” Mika grumbles. “I said I missed you.”

Chris laughs, gives Mika’s knee a quick squeeze. “Okay, okay. No teasing. Promise.”

He shuffles over to the bedside table, digs around in the drawer until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Swedish lube,” Chris says, reading the label as he shuffles back between Mika’s thighs. “You know, I never really thought about this kind of thing.”

“You exhaust me,” Mika complains.

“Like, sex stuff in other languages. I don’t think I know any fun words in Russian,” Chris says, wrinkling his nose in thought. “The idea of sex toy packaging entirely in Swedish is very funny, though.”

“I don’t know why I like you so much,” Mika says, covering his face.

“I’m really, really good at sex,” Chris deadpans. Well, in fairness, Mika has no complaints.

Mika hears the familiar crack of the lube’s cap as it opens and closes. He stretches his arms above his head, presses his heel into Chris’ back.

“You good?” Chris checks, and Mika hums in response. “Cool.”

Mika twitches at the first press of Chris’ fingers to his hole. It’s been a couple of weeks, and really, when he’s bored and lazy and horny he’s not going to go through the entire process of trying to finger himself when he can jerk off and take a nap. It’s called being efficient.

So, no. Fingering has not been a major part in his getting off routine. He can imagine the smug look on Chris’ face—he doesn’t need to lift his head to check for it.

Chris has broad, square hands. Mika knows this, partially because sometimes he looks at them a little too long, but mostly because he’s had those fingers inside him. Even with a generous amount of lube helping the process along it’s uncomfortable to take. Mika supposes this is why Chris has incorporated dicksucking into the fingering routine, because it’s enough to distract from the temporary discomfort. Unfortunately, Chris is good enough with his mouth that it rapidly becomes _too_ distracting. Chris is barely two fingers deep and Mika is trying to think of the most deeply unsexy thoughts he can. _AV screaming at him not to come. That one time Ryan ate a cupcake he dropped on the locker room floor, frosting-side down. Dip spit dribbling into a half-empty, purple Gatorade bottle._ It’s not helping.

“I’m literally gonna come in your mouth if you don’t chill for a second,” Mika says, and his voice only wavers a little, which is a lot better than he expected.

“You said you missed me,” Chris says. “I’m trying to help the situation.”

“ _Are_ you, though?” Mika asks.

Chris smiles at him and dips down to suck gently on the head of Mika’s dick instead of answering. In response, Mika does not make an embarrassing noise. It’s very close though. He has no idea what the state of things is like down there. At this point he figures he might as well get a firm grip on the sheets and try to hang on for dear life.

Mika’s not sure how much time passes before Chris looms into view, waving like a dork. “You good?”

It takes a second for Mika’s eyes to focus properly. “Yup. Totally good.”

Chris laughs and leans down to kiss him. His hands pull Mika closer to the edge of the bed, before they move up to cradle his face. Mika drags his fingers through Chris’ hair, tugging gently at the soft curls. He’s a little breathless when they finally break apart, Chris’ thumb rubbing pleasantly against the newly-shorn side of his head. Mika takes a moment just to look at him, search his face. He’s a little tanner than he was when they left New York, plus the longer hair, and still as handsome as ever. Mika might be a little biased. It’s not a big deal.

“You don’t have any condoms, by the way,” Chris says, trying his best to be casual. “So, uh—”

Mika blinks at him. “Do you have sex with other people?”

“I might have an extensive sex life,” Chris argues. “You don’t know.”

“I do know, and it’s that you don’t,” Mika says. He sighs. “And god knows _I_ don’t fuck anyone else.”

“You’re so monogamous, babe.”

“You take up a lot of my time,” Mika replies.

“Love you too,” Chris mumbles, but he’s also smiling, so Mika guesses there aren’t any hard feelings there.

Chris pulls away, which is a little upsetting until Mika remembers why they’re here in the first place. He closes his eyes, focuses instead on the sound of his breathing (even, not _too_ labored just yet), then the lube bottle’s cap as it opens and closes. The pause while Chris slicks himself up and hopefully doesn’t dribble lube on the hardwood. Mika doesn’t quite hold his breath when Chris’ cock presses against him, but it’s a close thing. Chris squeezes his hip comfortingly.

“That’s a weird way to give me permission to come in you, by the way,” Chris says. Mika groans. “I mean, it’s very sweet.”

“Why do you still have thoughts?” Mika demands. “Stay focused, ple—oh.”

“I’m very focused, babe,” Chris drawls. It’d almost be sweet if he wasn’t smirking.

On the bright side, he’s started moving—a slow drag of his hips that sends shudders up Mika’s spine. He hooks one leg around Chris’ waist, pulls him in closer with a hand on the back of his neck.

“You okay?”

“I’m gonna be upset with you if you stop,” Mika says, firm, and Chris laughs under his breath.

He reaches for Mika’s free hand and knots their fingers together, because he’s a massive softy who gets kinda upset if they don’t fuck missionary (not that he’d ever admit to that, but Mika’s sure of it—and maybe he’s gotten a little grumpy when he can’t see Chris’ face too, but that’s neither here nor there). Really, Mika didn’t know he needed the pressure of Chris’ hand on his until he got it.

Every press of Chris’ cock deeper inside of him feels like it sends a zip through Mika’s body. It makes his toes curl, his chest light up. He can hear himself panting more than he can actually experience it, and if he focuses too much on sounds he can sort of recognize that those weird, gasping noises are him. He can be embarrassed by it later, probably.

“Please,” he exhales, and he’s not really even sure what he’s asking for, just that he has to say it.

“I got you,” Chris murmurs as he presses their foreheads together. He’s staring right into Mika’s eyes, which is weirdly grounding. Though considering the way he feels like he’s seconds from flying apart, he’s needy and grateful for whatever he can get. The firm pressure of Chris’ hand on his hip, the bristle of Chris’ hair under his fingertips, the soft ramble leaving Chris’ mouth.

It’s not exactly a surprise when he comes, but it still feels like a punch somehow. Mika shudders, Chris holding him steady through it all.

“Not bad, huh?” Chris says. He seems surprisingly cool and collected, but from this close Mika’s pretty sure he can see the sweat gathering at his hairline while he tries to hold it together.

“You can come in me now,” Mika says briskly, grinning when Chris laughs, short and surprised. “I mean, _I’m_ done.”

“You’re so giving,” Chris says.

He pulls out almost all the way before he pushes back in one long slide, and it makes Mika’s toes curl. His dick is making a valiant effort to regain interest, but it’s not happening. Probably. He pulls Chris in by the nape of his neck to kiss him instead, wrapping both legs around Chris’ waist to get him as close as he can.

Chris grunts against his lips when he comes, his thrusts stuttering to a halt. He shifts to tuck his face into the crook of Mika’s neck, hot breath coasting over his skin. Mika supposes love is when you’re not slightly grossed out by that. He kisses Chris on the top of his head, skates his fingers across the long plane of Chris’ shoulders. Waits until he surfaces just long enough that Chris can lift his head and give him that pleased smile before he moves for another kiss.

 

 

Chris’ arm is a nice pillow, and if it falls asleep it’s not Mika’s problem. Though it is pretty nice that Chris is petting his hair, so he might need to move for that to continue. There are many difficult choices Mika needs to be making with not a lot of brainpower.

“How long are you staying here? We could walk around Stockholm,” Mika says. Chris hums, presses his lips up the crest of his shoulder. “Or we could drive somewhere. Uppsala, maybe.”

“I’ll have to look some stuff up.”

“There are cool churches, I think.” Chris’ fingers are dragging ticklishly against his bare stomach. Mika loses his train of thought for a moment. “You like museums?”

“Modern or classic art?”

“I dunno,” Mika says. “It’s a museum.”

“I’m a modernist, but I do like the Dutch masters,” Chris says, thoughtful.

“Well, I don’t wanna waste your time with a museum that doesn’t have any Dutch painters in it,” Mika decides. “How long are you staying?”

“I dunno, actually.” Chris shrugs, smiling a little. “I haven’t booked my flight back yet.”

“Oh, so you want to live with me rent-free even longer?” Mika teases, and Chris grins.

“I’m sure I could make it up to you,” Chris says, and he clears his throat. “I’m not on a schedule or anything this summer. I was, uh, thinking.”

“Bad sign,” Mika says.

“Maybe you could show me around for a couple weeks, if you’re not doing anything else,” Chris says, kindly ignoring Mika’s quip. “I wanna know the Stockholm you like. An inside look at Mika Zibanejad’s Swedish lifestyle.”

Mika laughs, rolls onto his side so he can look at Chris better. He looks so pleased, eyes crinkled and dimples out in full force. Mika absolutely has no idea how to say no to _that_. “Sure. I can be your tour guide for as long as you like.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](https://arzoensis.tumblr.com/)! Come say hi.


End file.
